the days are cold here
i wrap myself in “vanitas”
the ultimate Versace that is
lately the fragrance of choice
feels soothing on my current skin
a balm to my tenuous
weary nerves

i shield inside this
ephemeral cloud of scented mist
out of all called vanity

how ironic?

uprooted once
and tossed at sea
how volatile one could be
even returning to my origin
my blood always missing the vein
failing to reach a vital

repeatedly failing a life-
 test in humility

the nights are much colder
even the full moon is frosty distant
[in]different from here

"love is our true destiny. we do not find the meaning of life by ourselves alone - 
but find it with another." - Thomas Merton

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